Dane Jones works from home with only his three dogs for
company. When he stumbles onto a social media page about urban exploring, he’s curious
about different sites around Sacramento that seem like they’d be interesting to investigate.
He starts chatting with Griff Warren, and after a few conversations he’s even more excited to
Griff Warren is also curious about urban exploring, but he
has very little interest in experiencing something paranormal. When the guy he’s been
chatting with in the online group is so enthusiastic to go, it’s contagious. They plan to go to a
warehouse and while there, experience something they can’t explain.
Dane and Griff were looking for an adventure, but they find
more than they bargained for at a deserted farmhouse on the river. When Dane finds an old
toy discarded in one of the rooms, both of them are thrown into a world neither
understands. Full of cursed objects, strange markings, and powers, neither knows how to
handle. Lucky for them, Griff’s Friend knows exactly who can help.
#MMParanormal #UrbanFantasy #Friendstolovers
“Blake said everyone is ready to go as soon as you two want to.
I think he’s surprised you were still interested after what you saw at the cemetery.” Sid didn’t
look up from his phone as he talked.
“Let’s go soon, if I think about it too long, I’ll talk myself out of
I could see Dane wasn’t completely sold on this idea, but I also
knew how badly he wanted to know the mark he wore would protect him if he needed it to.
And I wanted him safe. I didn’t want him to ever be at the mercy of another being taking
control of him. “Let’s go on Thursday, we can take off early and get there before dark.”
“Good idea, it’s a slow week so we can definitely get out of
here early. Let’s make sure we have everything we need so we can leave as soon as we’re
done. I’d rather not be there after dark.” Sid looked at the two of us before clapping his
hands together. “Okay then, if we’re all done here?”
“Yeah, give me just a minute to walk Dane out.” I took his hand
and led him to the door. “Thanks so much for the coffee, that was sweet of you.” He gave me
an odd look until we walked out the door and I pressed him against the wall. “Sorry, but I
didn’t want you to leave without a kiss.”
“This feels like more than a kiss,” he whispered.
“Oh, it’s more than a kiss. If we were alone, it would definitely be more than a kiss.”
He laughed and bowed his head before meeting my eyes again.
“Do you think we’re making a mistake going back?”
About the Author
BL Maxwell grew up in a small town listening to her grandfather spin tales about his
childhood. Later she became an avid reader and after a certain vampire series she became
obsessed with fanfiction. She soon discovered Slash fanfiction and later discovered the MM
genre and was hooked.
Fated mates, thrown
together by chance, and the looming threat of a fabled Huntsman who might tear them
A grieving wolf. A hunted fox. Fated mates, thrown together
by chance, and the looming threat of a fabled Huntsman who might tear them apart
Fox shifter Liam Reynard is running from a killer. He uproots
his life to find sanctuary in Fox Hollow, deep in the Adirondack Forest in New York.
When his car breaks down, sexy wolf shifter Russ Lowe
comes to the rescue, and one touch makes it clear they’re fated mates. Neither man was
looking for love, and both are still mending from past heartbreak. When mysterious fires and
disappearances threaten Fox Hollow, Liam fears the killer is hot on his trail. Can he protect
the town and his fated mate from the evil hunting him, or will an ex-lover’s betrayal cost
Liam everything he loves?
Huntsman is full of sexy shifters, hurt/comfort, second
chance love, sincere psychics, hot first responders, found family, and fated mates. Intended
for readers 18 years of age or older.
Flashing lights broke Liam out of his gloomy thoughts.
The tow truck headed toward him, then did a U-turn and pulled in front of Liam’s car,
backing up until it was close enough to hook up the Honda.
The truck driver got out and walked toward Liam,
who reluctantly got out of the car. Even though he had called for assistance and it was clear
the stranger was a legitimate responder, Liam couldn’t help feeling jittery, with his hands
sweating, and heart thumping.
Those reactions doubled when he got a good look at
Oh, just shoot me now. Fuck my life. Why did he
have to be so fine?
In the glare of the truck’s spotlights, Liam made out
all the important details. The man had broad shoulders, strong arms, powerful legs, and a
solid chest, standing a good five inches or more over Liam’s five-foot-seven frame. Liam had
thought he might be saved if the driver was ugly as sin, but he was out of luck. His face was
as utterly lickable as the rest of him.
“You called for a tow? Mr. Reynard?”
“I’m Russell Lowe—everyone calls me Russ. I own
Lowe’s Auto Shop in Fox Hollow, and tonight I’m your personal tow truck driver,” he said with
a broad smile and dimples. The man’s sharp cheekbones, full lips, and strong chin were
highlighted by dark brown scruff. Liam’s gaze traveled upward, surprised at gray hair flecked
with brown framing a face that couldn’t be older than thirty-five. Green eyes made Liam
wonder what kind of shifter Russ might be.
He swallowed hard and might have blushed when he
realized Russ seemed to be checking him out too. No matter how attractive his roadside
savior might be, Liam’d had enough man trouble to last an eternity, and he sure didn’t need
more in a new town.
“Yes, I’m Liam Reynard. Just Liam,” he said, wishing
he could conjure up the natural charm that had always served him well in community
theater performances. His fox could be quite dramatic. But now, on the run, scared for his
life, and in the dark with a stranger in the middle of nowhere, he couldn’t muster his usual
“The engine started making strange noises, and I
pulled off. I didn’t want to break anything.” Liam cringed because heknew next to nothing
about cars. Admitting that takes points off my “man score,”
doesn’t it? Then again, so does being a sports-hating, gay fox shifter twink.
Well, at thirty, I’d thought my twink days were
behind me. But when he compared his own shorter, lithe,
dancer build to the solid man-mountain in front of him? Yeah, twink still fits.
“I’m glad you stopped the car without waiting for the
car to stop you.” Russ finally shifted his attention away from Liam and focused on the Civic.
“Let’s get the tow set up, and then you can ride in the cab with me to Fox
About the Author
Morgan Brice is the romance
pen name of bestselling author Gail Z. Martin. Morgan writes urban fantasy male/male
paranormal romance, with plenty of action, adventure and supernatural thrills to go with the
happily ever after. Gail writes epic fantasy and urban fantasy, and together with co-author
hubby Larry N. Martin, steampunk and comedic horror, all of which have less romance, more
explosions. Characters from her Gail books make frequent appearances in secondary roles in
her Morgan books, and vice versa.
On the rare occasions Morgan
isn’t writing, she’s either reading, cooking, or spoiling two very pampered dogs.
Series include Witchbane,
Badlands, Treasure Trail, Kings of the Mountain and Fox Hollow. Watch for more in these
series, plus new series coming soon!
He captured a fae prince,
but can he capture his heart?
Lochlann Wilde walks in the shadow of his father, a
legendary summoner who commanded mythical beasts in battle. But Locke isn’t legendary.
He’s barely a summoner, never passing his academy’s trial of the elements.
And then he accidentally summons a fae prince with a
beautiful body and a bad attitude.
Sylvain is fiery and ferocious, stronger than anything Locke
has ever encountered. And hotter, too. But time is running out. Locke must tame the prince’s
wild heart. If he fails his trial, he’ll lose his inheritance and ruin his family’s name.
Without Sylvain, Locke could lose his chance to become a
true summoner… along with his shot at true love.
The invisible entity’s breath rushed on the breeze,
seductive and strong. The faint beat of its heart sounded like the playing of a distant drum.
Above all things else I could taste the overwhelming power on the tip of my tongue, a
palpable flavor of strange, alien magic.
I had to have it. I needed to earn my Summoner’s Crest. It
was finally my time. I had to make my father proud, wherever he could be. I thrust my hand
out, the grimoire levitating at eye level, pages fluttering in an eldritch wind as it turned to
the correct section. The binding, the forging of a powerful contract.
“With iron will and stalwart heart I beseech you, great force
of the ether. Make yourself known. Manifest. In the name of the summoners that have come
before me, hear my words. Heed my call.”
A new wind swirled at my feet, sending leaves tumbling
upward, whipping at the branches. Gooseflesh rose all over my skin, my body’s response to
the tingle and thrum of gathering power. Something was here. Something was
Time to finish the incantation, the barest minimum for me
to qualify for the Summoner’s Crest. Time to complete the Pact of the Unknown.
“I invoke you, thing of the ether, unseen and unnamed.
Grant me time and space enough to bargain and barter, to forge a bond that may yet be
fruitful for us both.”
The wind howled, ripping at my cloak, shearing through my
hair, screaming into my ears. It was coming.
It was here.
Time to bring it all home.
“Nameless of the ether, dweller in the unknown, I call you. I
summon you. Come forth. Reveal yourself!”
Grass, leaves, and petals exploded in a burst from the
center of the clearing, filling the air with a swirl of green and gold. I shielded my eyes,
watching through the gaps in my fingers. Had it worked? It must have. I said all the words
correctly, channeled the torrent of great magic through my soul, my flesh. Nothing short of a
god could have resisted my summons.
And there he knelt in the center of the glade, his head low,
his neck loose, a powerfully built man wearing leather trousers and little else. He propped
himself up by one hand, groaning, rubbing at his forehead with the other, like someone
recovering from a hangover. A side effect of the invocation, possibly.
Black hair fell in soft wisps over his brow, across his pale
gold eyes. They took their time to focus, then filled with defiance, with wild devilry. He
glanced up at me, eyes widening, mouth turning up in anger. But even in fury the man was
devastating. That face, those lips, that — oh, gods, that body. He was the most beautiful
man I’d ever seen.
And then he opened his mouth.
About the Author
Nazri Noor is a California-
based author of Filipino and Malaysian descent. While capable of fluently cursing in three
languages, he only writes in English, and has been doing so in a professional capacity for
over 20 years. His urban fantasy novels feature wise-cracking heroes who save the world
with wits, style, and magic: think sass and class, while kicking ass.
Mac and Tony thought the hard part was over. They’re
together openly as a couple, sharing a home and building a life with their two kids. It’s what
they dreamed of. But daughter Anna struggles with the changes, Ben
is haunted by old secrets, Mac’s job in Homicide still demands too much of his time, and
Tony is caught in the middle. It’ll take everything these men can give to create a viable
balance between home and work. Especially when life refuses to give them a break.
(This is a lightly edited rerelease of the 2012 original
About the Author
I get asked about my name a
lot. It’s not something exotic, though. “Kaje” is pronounced just like “cage” – it’s an old
nickname, and my pronouns are she/her/hers. I’ve been writing far longer than I care to
admit (*whispers – forty-five years*), although mostly for my own entertainment. I write
M/M romance, often with added mystery, fantasy, historical, SciFi, paranormal… I also have
Young Adult short stories (some released under the pen name Kira Harp.)
After decades of writing just
for fun, my husband convinced me I really should submit something, somewhere. My first
professionally published book, Life Lessons, came out in May 2011. I now have a good-sized
backlist in ebooks and print, both free and professionally published, including Amazon
bestseller The Rebuilding Year and Rainbow Award Best Mystery-Thriller Tracefinder: Contact.
A complete list with links can be found on my website “Books” page at https://kajeharper.com/books/.
There are a few things Nolan Ouellet has come to accept
about himself. One: that his future with the NHL was irrevocably
destroyed thanks to his reckless actions as a teenager destroying his knee. Two: that he will never fall in love because the very
idea of it sends his skin crawling. Three: he will bed as many NHL players as humanly
possible before he retires his game. And four: he will never apologize for who he is and
what he wants. Then two men come barreling into his life and turn
everything he knows upside down. He still won’t play for the NHL, and he still won’t
change who he is because he’s fought too long and too hard to accept his identity. But
suddenly his future is starting to look a little different than he originally
planned. And that scares the absolute hell out of
him. When he met Marko Rudenko and Luka
Wagner—two veterans of the Denver Huskies—they were supposed to be a game, just like
everyone else. But now all he can think about is how to keep them around without
compromising the person he’s become and ruining the love Marko and Luka have for each
“Is there going to be a fight?” Nolan asked.
The guy scoffed, glancing at him. “Worse. Hockey
Nolan’s heart rammed against his chest. Not that it could
possibly be Marko or Luka, but he hadn’t seen or spoken to either of them since the
awkward incident at the rink. He hadn’t even been letting himself think about it.
He swallowed thickly. “They come in here a lot?”
“Every once in a while,” the guy said, then lowered his
voice. “Mostly because it’s the furthest thing from a sports bar so no one’s going to notice if
they take someone home.”
Nolan heard that for the warning it was: keep your mouth
shut. The guy might not love having professional athletes in his bar, but he also knew it was
good for business.
He forced himself not to look, bowing over his drink. “Tell
me when it’s safe to escape, and close out my tab.”
“Actually, put his drink on ours.”
Nolan’s entire body froze.
Fuck. Fucking shit fuck shit.
He would have recognized Luka’s voice even if he was
concussed and under water. His throat went tight, but he tried to offer something like a
smile, though given how wide Luka’s eyes were behind his glasses, he realized he was
His heart sank even lower when another body slid up
against Luka’s and stared him down. “You don’t answer call or text. We think maybe you
Yeah, okay. He did kind of deserve that. He’d just left Marko
hanging like an asshole, and the guy didn’t deserve it. But he also didn’t deserve Nolan’s
mess when it was obvious Marko and Luka were both capable of a love that straight up
repulsed Nolan down to his core.
“You know these guys?” the bartender asked. He crossed
his arms over his chest in a protective way, and Nolan felt a pulse of affection for the total
“No. We don’t know him. He’s total weirdo who stalk us,”
Luka elbowed him hard. “Stop being an asshole. Yes, we
Nolan sighed and gave a nod. “Old friends. In fact, put their drinks on my tab. Get them each one of these,” he said, tapping his
Both Marko and Luka started to protest, but the bartender
ignored them both with a shrug and walked off to fill the order.
“Why you being child?” Marko demanded.
“Pretty sure a child couldn’t afford a twenty-six-dollar glass
of bourbon for his two friends,” Nolan fired back.
Luka’s brows shot up, and he shoved his glasses higher up
on the bridge of his nose. “Why the fuck are you drinking that?”
“Because it tastes amazing,” he said. And because I can afford it now thanks to a slew of online
strangers who pay me to shove dildos up my ass. But he wasn’t going to say that part aloud as tempting as it was. “You don’t want
As if summoned, the bartender arrived with three new
glasses, and Nolan took his, watching the other two out of his periphery. Marko showed no
hesitation when snatching up his, but Luka was a little more hesitant.
“It’s not poisoned,” Nolan grumbled.
Marko sighed, then hip-checked Luka out of his way and sat
on the wooden stool. It groaned under his impossibly thick layers of muscle, and Nolan tried
not to stare at the way his arms flexed as he laid one on the bar top and used the other to
lift his glass to his mouth.
“Okay, we talk about weird moment, or we just get drunk
and pretend it never happen?”
Nolan didn’t think the fucker was just going to come out
with it like that. Guilt slammed into him as he looked over at Luka and wondered if this was
some sort of confrontation because Nolan had flirted with them both and gotten a little too
close to Marko recently. He swallowed down another delightfully spiced mouthful of
“Should I get drunk for this conversation?”
“Looks like you’re already halfway there,” Luka pointed out.
He wedged himself between Marko and Nolan, leaning his elbow on Marko’s shoulder in a
gesture that telegraphed they were together.
As they should be, Nolan thought bitterly, but he wasn’t
feeling particularly generous considering how badly he wanted them both. “Yeah, well. I
came here to drink my feelings.”
“Mm. You should try feelings burritos,” Marko said. “Is
much better. No hangover.”
“Nah, just burrito farts,” Luka said, then laughed when
Marko rolled his eyes. “Please, you know it’s true. There’s a reason we don’t sleep together
when you and Ravi have burrito night.”
Nolan felt his ears go red, and he had to look away. He
didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with him because, for an aromantic asshole, he loved
watching the people he cared about living their best lives. So why did it force bile up his
throat to think about losing these two to each other?
They wanted things that made his skin crawl.
He jolted slightly when warm fingers touched his wrist, and
he took a breath before he returned his attention to the two men. “I’m still firmly team
“Are you still team Luka and Marko?” Luka asked so quietly
Nolan mostly had to read his lips over the music.
He swallowed heavily. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you stop talking to me,” Marko said, his booming
voice rising over the music. “We have moment, then you just leave. And then”—he sucked in
air through his teeth—“nothing.”
About the Author
E.M. Lindsey is a non-binary
writer who lives in the southeast United States, close to the water where their heart
The Lady’s Horsemen
are riding out once more. Carrying death’s scythe to where tormented souls
But what awaits them in
a world where divine magick has returned?
The Lady’s Horsemen are riding out once more. Carrying
death’s scythe to where tormented souls linger.
But what awaits them in a world where divine magick has
Pitch is recovered from the injuries he received in the
Forest of Dean, and Silas won’t soon forget the part he played in setting his guardian back on
The ankou and the daemon have been reunited in a most
unexpected and intimate way, but barely have they caught their breath when a new threat
A tortured spirit is frightening both the living and the dead
along the roads of Devon.
But is this soul a monster that must be stopped, or another
pawn in the necromancer’s mysterious game?
With Azazel’s magick re-emerging after hundreds of years,
maleficium plagues the world once more. But who is wielding the forbidden arcane magick
of the angels?
Do they work alone?
And why are they so intent on harassing the Lady’s
Silas has never felt stronger, or more determined to live up
to the Order’s high expectations. He’s faced the walking dead, outwitted the enchanted Hall,
and gained an ally in the skriker.
But he’s not sure he’s equipped to handle his growing
attraction to a troubled daemon.
And Silas fears that getting any closer to Pitch and his tragic
secrets may prove as dangerous as the monsters they are riding to face.
Excerpt from ‘The Bandalore-Pitch & Sickle Book One’
A rather pretty gentleman, sharp featured, pale and fine,
stepped into the room with a flourish of raised hands. His tousled light brown hair was wild
about his shoulders, and his eyes so green it was as though emeralds had been pressed into
the sockets. ‘Let the amusements begin…or should I say…continue.’
His velvet coat, a red almost as bold as the woman’s lips,
was unbuttoned, revealing a black shirt with a silver brocade of Chinese dragons upon it. An
elaborate ruffling of silk tumbled from the collar and covered a good portion of his chest. His
choice of trousers was equally curious, a rather outdated fall-front style in black silk.
The baron groaned, but his smile was ever-present. ‘Good
god, man, we thought you two would never be done.’
‘Perfection takes time, does it not?’
‘Take your seat, you rascal, and stop your showmanship, at
least just for a moment.’
Silas scratched his right palm absently, attempting to stymie
the prickle. Like many things about himself he wasn’t certain of his age, his late twenties was
likely, much the same as the man who had just swept into the room.
Mr Astaroth tilted his head, pursing lips that held a near-
perfect Cupid’s bow. ‘Am I to stand aside so another showman can perform?’
‘Exactly,’ the baron declared.
As Mr Astaroth made his way to his seat with his
companion, he had a notable effect on those in attendance. The ladies all at once seemed
incapable of deciding how they should adjust their gowns upon their seats, and the men
were equally as fidgety. All of them were fixated on Mr Astaroth’s procession across the
room. The man had not spared Silas a glance yet, even when he was deriding him, and Silas
had no issue with that at all. He was not sure he’d enjoy the pierce of those green eyes upon
him. But he could not deny there was indeed something mesmerising about the lad, the
sway of his hips, the coiled tension in his body that gave the impression he might suddenly
leap unannounced in any direction.
Mr Astaroth stopped to take a glass of champagne from the
tray offered by a somewhat flustered young footman. The liquid wobbled in its crystal
confines, and the boy’s eyes darted so quickly between the floor and the man before him, it
was as though he’d lost control of his eyeballs.
‘Thank you, kind sir. What a wonderful job you do.’ Mr
Astaroth’s smile was discomfortingly suggestive, his whispered appreciation of the boy’s
offering far too intimate, and the serving boy nearly stumbled over his own feet to move
Mr Astaroth was slender, not remarkable in height, and the
angles of his face were delicate to the point of being feminine, but he held a presence that
quite overwhelmed the room. Silas’s gaze moved down the length of the man’s body to his
feet. He wore heeled boots, which meant he was shorter than first impressions allowed. The
glean of polished leather distracted Silas from what became startlingly obvious a moment
later. He tensed and closed his eyes a second, as though that might change things. But alas it
was not to be.
The ground at Tobias Astaroth’s feet held no
Whoever this man was, he was not, for all intents and
purposes, human. Silas took hold of the arms of the chair, filled with the sudden desire to
depart. No one had thought to instruct him on an encounter such as this.
‘Stop frightening the help and get your arse on a chair,’
declared the bespectacled man at Silas’s left. ‘We know how you hate to have attention
diverted from you, so do try and behave, Pitch old boy.’
Evidently the group knew the man well enough to have
endowed him with a nickname. Silas could only imagine its origins.
‘Oh Brenton,’ Victoria, Mr Astaroth’s companion, said. ‘As
far as I’m concerned, Tobias has been on his best behaviour all evening.’ She had taken her
seat and leaned her elbows upon the table, utterly at ease.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ Mr Astaroth said. ‘You are as sensible
as you are extremely talented in the art of, what were we calling it? Tarot reading.’ He tilted
his glass towards her before turning to Silas. The air quite vanished from Silas’s lungs
beneath the daggers of his emerald stare. ‘How very nice to make your acquaintance, Mr
Mercer. I do hope we are in for a wonderful show.’
Book 5 – Coming Soon – October 20,
The Fulbourn – Pitch & Sickle Book Five:
The Diabolus Chronicles
When the King of
Daemonkind comes to call, be ready for hell to follow.
After Lucifer’s disturbing visit, the quest to destroy the Blight takes on a desperate urgency.
Finding Lieutenant Edward Charters is paramount.
But what role does a mortal man play in Seraphiel’s dangerous game?
The angel has sent Pitch a talisman from beyond the grave, a seemingly innocuous watch
that may be the key to ending the Watcher King’s dark legacy. But to learn its secret Pitch
and Silas must find the man intended to carry it.
As the search for the lieutenant begins, the Horsemen find themselves gifted with
something more precious than any angelic token. An evening of unexpected freedom.
A night that will deepen their intimacy and bring long-stifled feelings to the fore.
But what price will they pay for choosing breathless pleasure over rigid duty?
The Morrigan have not forgiven the destruction at the greensward. They are prepared to do
whatever it takes to rid themselves of the Horsemen and heed the Watcher King’s ghostly
The Fulbourn is Pitch and Silas’s greatest threat yet.
A place that will drive them into the depths of their most terrible fears and seek to tear
They are closer than ever before but will that fragile new bond be
enough to save them?
Or have the daemon prince and his ankou found the nemesis that will destroy them once
and for all?
The Diabolus Chronicles is a slow-burn MM Gaslamp
Fantasy series that contains on-page sex scenes, gore and violence, and rather a lot of
This is the fifth book in the on-going series.
About the Author
Danielle K Girl is an Aussie who lives in stunning Tasmania with
her three furkids, cats Luffy, Sweetie and Ren.
Her idea of heaven is a farm full of rescue animals, with a
vegie garden that sprouts peanut M&M’s and chocolate wheaten biscuits.
When she’s not keyboard-deep in mysterious, beguiling
worlds, she is binge watching K-Dramas, listening to K-Pop or hiking through the beautiful
Since she broke up with me, I get my needs met any time I
want, without putting my heart on the line. Exactly how I like it.
But when she is called overseas and leaves me with our
child, my bachelor lifestyle ends faster than you can say, “Daddy, I want a pony.”
I need help.
Problem is, help’s come in the form of an incredibly hot
Who is much younger than me.
And also … a guy.
I watch Scott care for my kid and can’t help feeling like he
clicks into place in her life.
When he looks at me, though … I get an entirely different
feeling. One that makes me long for things I can’t have.
Unmanageable is a contemporary m/m age gap romance
about a starry-eyed nanny who wants hot-air balloon rides and singing telegrams and a
grumpy single dad who most definitely does not.
I wish I had Murph’s confidence. Before that dustup with
Edsel, I was positive he was the one, but now my optimism has left me, never to
“What do I do while I’m waiting for ‘the one’? And how do I
solve my money issues?” My voice cracks. “I might lose my place.”
“How can I help?” He bites his lip. “Do you need to borrow
“No.” My tone comes out much more forcefully than I
intend. But hell no. “I’m not getting into more debt, especially not to a friend. I just need to put
my job search into hyperdrive. I have to get myself a job that pays more than the greeting
“Now, that’s a solvable problem.” Murph’s eyes
light up, and he claps. “What do you want to do for work? What skills do you have?”
He glares at me. “You have to be good at
“Well, I’m very good at arranging romantic dates, but that’s
not exactly a salaried position.”
He tilts his head to the side. “You could be a wedding
I scratch the back of my neck. “Actually, that’s not a bad
idea.” My shoulders slump. “But I don’t know how to break into that business. And I need
“Who needs money fast? You’re still job hunting?” A body
hovers over us, and I look up to see my friend Jeremy Everett. After he and I got a tiny bit
sauced one night here at V and V, he adopted me as a member of his booklover gang. Like
Murph, Jeremy’s a force of nature, only he’s a bit more reformed fuckboi and a bit less
princess. He runs a hand through his halo of dirty-blond hair. “You could sell plasma. Or
“Hey,” I say, scooting over in the seat to let him in. “And,
“I’m not gonna judge,” Jeremy says, holding up his hands.
“You gotta do what you gotta do.”
“Even if I were desperate enough to bring the product of
my ham candle to market, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to pass on my genetic material. The
recipient might end up in as dire straits as me.”
your ham candle?” Murph and Jeremy say at
the same time.
Shrugging, I hide my smile.
They burst out laughing, and then Murph clucks his tongue.
“I’ve had about enough of ‘Bag on Scottybear’ time. No more, okay? We’re problem
“Fine.” I grimace. “Just no, uh, dissemination of my, um,
semen. For profit. I mean, I don’t have a problem with it, but it’s not for me.”
They crack up again, and now we’re getting looks from
around the bar. Vino and Veritas is all chatter and good vibes, but there is a point where you
can be a little too loud. We might be getting there.
“Do you have to get back to work?” I ask Murph.
He checks his phone. “I have a couple minutes left of my
break. And this is more entertaining than that time Jason and Tai lost bets to me and
Emmett and had to stand on the street corner across from city hall in Speedos holding signs
that said, ‘Love me, love my Nantucket Nad Bucket.’”
Jeremy raises his eyebrows. “I missed that one.”
“You did,” Murph and I say together.
About the Author
Leslie McAdam is a California
girl who loves romance and well-defined abs. She lives in a drafty old farmhouse on a small
orange tree farm in Southern California with her husband and two children. Leslie’s first
published book, The Sun and the
Moon, won a 2015 Watty, which is the world’s
largest online writing competition. She’s gone on to receive additional literary awards and
has been featured in multiple publications, including Cosmopolitan.com. Her books have
been Top 100 Bestsellers on both Amazon and Apple Books. Leslie is employed by day but
spends her nights writing about the men of your fantasies.
Gorgeous movie star, workaholic, and the ultimate laid back, can’t-help-but-love-him kind of guy.
Oh, did I mention gorgeous?
But the reason I, Westley Lee, hid my attraction to the man was two-fold.
I loved my job. As his personal assistant, he depended on me and I’d come to crave being wanted by him, even though it wasn’t exactly as I imagined. Also, being part of his life, even in the peripheral, was better than not being with him at all. And while it screamed desperation on my part, every intimate thought I had about him was locked in the recesses of my mind as I kept up appearances.
Until one night changed everything.
Seeing Spencer in pain crumbled all the walls I’d built between us to protect my heart. And in a moment of pure weakness, he saw through my barriers and I was unable to keep him in the dark about my feelings.
But will we find our happily ever after when a threat endangers our entire future?
The downside, or sinful temptation as I defined it, of living behind the man and being involved in everything from having groceries delivered, overseeing the few household staff he employed on a part-time basis, and having full access to his house and his finances was my life became inundated with everything Spencer Atreus.
The man was stunning. The fact he was also a straight cis movie star with people always wanting something from him or craving the man himself never went to his head, and I refused to be a sycophant.
Regardless of the images flashing behind my eyelids of the man with a gorgeous smile and beautifully sculpted body and what he could do to me in that bed, I locked all the fantasies down in the private recesses of my mind and drifted off as blackness descended.
A familiar, yet distant ring jolted me out of bed. I tried to blink the sleep from my eyes, but the gritty, dry discomfort meant I’d left my contacts in when I’d dropped off into slumber. Ignoring the irritation blinking caused and concentrating on the insistent sound, I scrambled toward it and on the fourth ring, I answered with a short, “What?”
All the years of daily reminders I’d given, lecturing at him about how much I hated being called by my last name, Spencer refused to call me anything else. But at that moment, I shoved back my irritation as the urgency in his voice caught me off guard and worst-case scenarios ran through my head.
“What’s wrong? Do you need me to pick you up?”
There was a shuffling, as though the phone was being wrestled away, and then another voice came on the line. One I avoided at all costs.
“Hey, sexy? Someone threw a punch, and it struck—”
“Where are you?” I demanded in a low growl.
I whipped around and strode toward the bathroom, holding the phone against my ear with my shoulder, and washed my hands. After I cleaned my fingers, leaving them wet, I yanked the dried contacts from around my corneas and sighed in relief. I added eye drops to clear up the redness and irritation. In a rush, I cleaned my glasses before I pulled on some jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. It was March in California and the nights could get cold.
He was still rambling about something that had nothing to do with the current location of one Spencer Atreus, so I barked, “Where?”
“At the house, but you—”
Not proud of my actions, I hung up on Spencer’s friend and constant flirt, Mason Dawes, and stuck my feet in sneakers before I snagged my keys and wallet, locked up, and started up toward the main house.
It wasn’t as though I didn’t like Mason. I hadn’t allowed myself to get to know him because something about the man felt… off, and so I avoided him. He was never serious about anything, aside from maybe his career, and I refused to tolerate his attempts at chatting me up. Although it’d never come up during my employment with Spencer, Mason spotted me at Bayou, a West Hollywood gay bar early in my employment. That night, I tried finding another man who’d allow me to get over the stupid fascination I had with Spencer, but it was one of several nights of turning down offer after offer before I understood I’d have to live without. There was no substitute for Spencer in my eyes. And as far as I knew, Mason hadn’t yet told his friend.
About the Author
Valerie resides in Denver, Colorado with her husband. While she had been interested in writing a romance novel for years, it wasn’t until she wrote her first book that she really became hooked, and now she can’t stop. She has notebooks full of ideas, and she plans to write most of them in the years to come.
When she’s not writing or learning about the craft of writing, she can be found surfing the internet way too much, watching Investigation Discovery and thinking that her neighbors are up to no good, and finding new ways to get her husband to laugh.